Sandal kept assuring herself and others
that "Harry never, never would do any thing wrong or unkind, especially
about a woman," every one was apprehensive and watchful. But at last,
even suspicion tires of watching for events that never happen; and
Sophia sent other letters, and made no mention of Harry; and the fear
that had crouched at each home-heart slunk away into forgetfulness.
Into total forgetfulness. When Harry voluntarily came home for
Christmas, no one coupled his visit with the remarks made by Sophia four
months previously. They had not expected to see him, and the news of
his advent barely reached the house before he followed it; for there was
a heavy snow-storm, and the mail was sent forward with difficulty. So
Mrs. Sandal was reading the letter announcing his visit when she heard
his voice in the hall, and the joyful cry of Charlotte as she ran to
meet him. And that night every one was too happy, too full of inquiry
and information, to notice that Harry was under an unusual restraint. It
did not even strike Charlotte until she awoke the next morning with all
her faculties fresh and clear; then she felt, rather than understood,
that there was something not quite right about Harry.
It was still snowing, and every thing was white; but the atmosphere of a
quiet, happy Christmas was in the house. There were smiling faces and
good wishes at the breakfast-table, and the shifting lustres of blazing
fires upon the dark walls and evergreens and wax-white mistletoe.
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